


Come Back Soon

by SariahHime



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Armin and Marco are students, College AU, Eren and Jean are college professors, Eren is a shitty roommate, F/F, M/M, More tags as things progress, Teacher-Student Relationship, They're all legal adults tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SariahHime/pseuds/SariahHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A disgruntled professor falls for a young piece of ass and then puts his morals on the line for a shot at real love.</p><p>Or the tale of Jean the angry English Lit professor and his always hectic, sometimes funny life with a shitty roommate, a trash dog, a hot freckled barista and absolutely no patience for stupid students.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello JeanMarco fandom! I'm branching from my main ship to try my hand at these cuties.  
> This first chapter ended up being really long because I'm a failure at life. OTL  
> My normal chapter size is like 3500-4000 words. 
> 
> ANYWAY! This chapter is split between Jean's and Marco's POV of the same day. I'll update the tags as things progress and look out for chapter two and the introduction of some new characters including the loving asshole roommate, Eren!

_Jean_

His freckles were like stars, a flurry of swimming constellations across his face. The patterns and splotches extended over his high cheekbones and brushed the tips of his ears. When he smiled the edges of his eyes would crinkle and if I was lucky enough, he would blush and paint a rosy canvas for the stars to shine on. A few lone spots danced down his jaw and wound around his neck. I would bet serious money his collarbones were adorned with as many freckles as his face.

Thirty seven; my count so far from what I could see. It’s winter and he's bundled up pretty tightly behind the barista counter. If I could only see his arms I might find more. I know I’d find more. His loose, turtleneck sweater looked incredibly inviting, even if the blue color clashed horribly with the army green apron this coffee place made him wear. Thank god I decided to stop here today. I loved it when Marco worked.

As soon as I had stepped through the door, completely put out by the falling snow and slippery front steps, I had felt better. It was warm in here and quiet. Quiet was definitely the keyword to my happiness. I was only slightly perturbed by the cacophony of Christmas decorations that had appeared since my last visit but none of that mattered anymore. The man of my dreams was standing behind the counter just five feet from me.

“Hello! What can I get for you?” He spoke with a pleased fervor that was foreign to my own personality. It took actual mental strength to not blurt out the words sitting on my tongue, something like _‘your phone number would be great, thanks.’_

“Something that doesn’t scream Christmas in a cup.” I think I tried to smile but clearly it was a scowl since Marco faltered.

His smile picked up almost instantly though. Nice recovery. “I guess it’s a little overwhelming in here, huh?”

He scratched the back of his head, looking around the nearly deserted Winter Wonderland-esque building. He paused, as if in thought and that’s when I knew I was fucked. He's so hot when he thinks _._ His brow scrunched and he brought a hand to his chin, tapping the corner of his plump bottom lip with his forefinger. There were more freckles on his knuckles. I swallowed heavily. Damn he’s hot.

“I’ve got just the thing!” He clapped his hands suddenly, making me jump. He barely noticed before he was off pulling out milk and various ingredients, throwing them into a mixer and then flipping the switch.

I followed him with my eyes as he practically danced behind the counter. It seemed he was alone tonight. “You gonna tell me what it is, or what?”

Marco stopped short and I’ll be damned if I didn’t regret opening my mouth. He looked back at me, a sheepish look in his big brown eyes. Maybe I wasn’t entirely sorry because those freckled cheeks were burning bright red again. But I was sorry for making him look so guilty.

“Uh, nevermind.” I shrugged. “I like surprises.”

He perked up, eyes lighting up like fireworks before toeing open a small fridge on the floor and resuming his work. He was kneeling down, head buried in the fridge, so I bent over the counter to check out his ass. Yeah he had a nice ass.

Marco stood abruptly and I nearly tripped over my own damn feet to pull away from the counter. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my peacoat to throw him off my trail when he looked back at me. He only smiled once, a small grin really, before turning his back and adding more things to the mixer.

“No peeking!” He called over his shoulder.

“It’s not like I can tell what it is by the ingredients.” I rolled my eyes at the back of his head. Oh, there were freckles on the back of his neck too, just below his hairline. One, two, three, four…

“Okay, here!” He whipped around and I reflexively pulled my scarf up closer to my chin. I cleared my throat as he shoved a warm cup into my hands.

I looked down at the lid like I’d be able to tell what it was, or maybe I looked like I was constipated. Whatever face I was making, Marco seemed displeased.

“It’s not poisoned," he mumbled.

“Wha--” I started, shaking my head vigorously. “I wasn't thinking that!”

Marco threw his head back and laughed. Oh, heavens it was a beautiful laugh. The first time I’d heard it too. Here I was, a complete stranger to this man who more than likely didn’t know my name. No, he definitely didn’t know it. It was never busy enough here for them to write names on cups. This part of town was low in the foot traffic.

But I knew him. I knew how many stupid freckles were on his face and I was corny enough to think they were constellations. _You need to get your act together, Kirschtein_. God I was so fucked.

“I’m just kidding!” Marco wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. He sighed happily before continuing. “Go ahead and try it. If you don’t like it I’ll make you something else.”

I looked back to the cup and without a second thought, downed half of it. Or at least I tried. Most of it ended up dripping down my chin when I sputtered from my tongue being scalded. Jean, you’re an idiot. I could practically hear my mother reprimanding me in the back of my mind. I clapped a gloved hand to my mouth to prevent any further embarrassment. Like, oh I don’t know, spitting it out on the cute barista who was kind enough to humor me.

“Oh!” Marco quickly pulled some napkins out of the dispenser on the counter. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to say it’s hot.”

I reached for the napkins with one hand, the other still clutching the half empty cup, but Marco beat me to it. He glanced worriedly at my face and began dabbing at the corners of my mouth. He wiped gently at my chin, catching the drips before they rolled down my neck. His fingers were so warm. From this angle, with his hands on my face and his upper body leaning over the counter, we’d never been closer.

I was stunned silent as he cleaned up my mess and then I was very angry at my sudden cowardice. I pulled away and turned my head. Like hell I was gonna let him see me blush. It may look cute on freckled, tan skin, but on my pasty ass blushes were incriminating. It’s like a fucking beacon shouting to the world _‘Jean Kirschtein is embarrassed! Yes that’s right folks, you heard it here first. Self-proclaimed macho man Jeanbo has the butterflies!’_. Fuck you, you traitorous body.

“S-sorry,” Marco stuttered. He clenched the napkins in his hand and stepped back from his side of the counter. “I guess that was a little forward.”

My shoulders dropped. “No, it’s okay. Really, I don’t know why I pulled away.”

Marco pushed the crumpled napkins across the smooth surface and left them on my side. “Here, you’ve still got a little on your cheek," he mumbled. Great, now he was too afraid to get close. Look at me not getting my act together like I said I should.

“Thanks, Marco.” I smiled as sweetly as possible to reassure him. Yes I can smile sweetly. At least I can for Marco.

He froze, head tilting curiously. “You know my name?”

I snorted. “It’s on your name tag, dude.”

“O-oh,” He glanced down at his chest and tugged at the apron. “Right, yeah I guess it is.”

I raised a brow at him then, wiping the remainder of the hot concoction from my face. “Should I not use your name?”

Marco beamed at that. His whole face lit up. Fuck, I’m having cliche thoughts about how blinding his smile is. “Please use it!”

Oh no. No no no. My pasty ass was totally screwed.

“What’s yours?” Marco leaned back over the counter again, eyeing me like a hopeful puppy.

Wait, what’s my name? It’s stupidly French. I think it starts with a J. Remember how to use your words, Kirschtein. Oh yeah.

“Jean.”

Marco hummed thoughtfully. “ _Jean_.”

Okay that’s going right into the spank bank. It’s also going on a list of things hot freckled baristas are not allowed to say in public because _hello awkward boner_.  I mean, if you’re going to practically purr a man’s name, you should at least have the decency to do it in private.

I'm pretty sure I zoned out because it took a solid five seconds for me to realize Marco had asked a question. “I’m sorry, what?”

Marco giggled. “I said, did you get to taste the drink before losing it all over your face?”

“Oh.” I licked the inside of my cheek for good measure. “What is it? It’s good.”

“Really?!” Marco leaned further over the counter, hands spreading into my territory. “That’s the first time I’ve made a pumpkin spice latte. It’s a little out of season but I figured it was more of the bah humbug taste you were after.”

 _Bah humbug?_ “Are you suggesting that I’m Scrooge?”

“Of course not!” Marco put his elbows on the counter, chin in his palms. He looked so fucking cute with that sly grin on his lips. “Name a Christmas carol.”

Oh that was easy.

“Well,” I started, but then my mind was trying to think of one I’d heard on my car radio recently but every time one came on I would always change it. “Okay this is like one of those things where someone asks your favorite TV shows and then suddenly you can’t even remember a single one.”

“Jean. There's one literally playing over the speakers right now.” Marco snickered into his palm.

“Whatever,” I huffed. I was being stubborn. But then again, I was always stubborn. “That would be too easy. Besides, maybe I don’t like this one.”

“How do you not like Carol of the Bells?” Marco looked genuinely offended, like I’d outright insulted his mother or something.

“That’s not fair,” I pouted. This was getting ridiculous. “You can’t even understand what they’re saying!”

“Bah, humbug!” Marco gripped his sides in his fit of laughter. Even if he was laughing at my expense, it was still nice to see. I watched him and sipped at my latte since it had cooled down some.

“Whatever.” I sounded like a broken record. “How much do I owe you?”

Marco shook his head. “My treat, since you burned your tongue.”

“I can’t just--”

“You can,” Marco insisted. He looked at me sternly, his soft brown eyes sending a playful threat. “And you can repay me by singing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and letting me record it.”

Marco pulled his phone out of his pocket so fast it was almost a blur. My mind barely processed it before the object was in my face and Marco was grinning devilishly behind it. I blinked a few times before my gaping mouth decided to spit out the words my head was screaming.

“Hell no!”

“Oh, c’mon Jean!” Marco was looking at me through his phone camera. “No one else will see it! If it makes you feel better I do this to all my friends.”

Friends? This was the first real conversation we’d had, and he already considered us friends? Sure there had been courteous ‘Hello’s’ and ‘Thank you’s’, plenty of ‘Have a good day', but nothing I considered substantial enough to warrant friendship. Not that I wouldn’t like to be friends. More than friends even. Different bridge to cross, different time.

“I don’t even know the words!” I pulled my scarf up higher, self-conscious of the camera in my face.

“I’ll start you off!” Marco looked like that was what he was waiting for all along. He took a breath then started singing. “ _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer had a very shiny nose!_... that’s your cue Jean.”

I rolled my eyes and grumbled. I was not doing this willingly. “ _And if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows._ Or something like that. Whatever.”

“ _All of the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names,_ ” Marco continued singing where I left off. He kept his phone trained on me and from behind it I could see his red cheeks. He was blushing again. Why, I had no idea. I was the one who was embarrassed. “ _They never let poor Rudolph play in any reindeer games._ You get the best line Jean!”

I looked around the small cafe again, gratefully noting we were definitely alone. If the hot barista wanted me to sing, then by god I’ll sing. You can call me a canary. “ _Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say; Rudolph with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?_ ”

I stopped mainly because it was his turn. But there was a look on his face that made my heart nearly stop too. He lowered his phone and I could only assume he’d stopped recording. He drug his eyes over my face and started chewing on his gorgeously plump bottom lip. God how I wanted to be the one nibbling on his lip.

“What?” I asked. “Not good enough for you?” I was joking of course. “Do I need to do a full dance number to pay off my debt?”

“N-no!” Marco waved his hands, his phone still in his clutches. “Sorry, you just have a really nice voice.”

Oh. It was my turn to scratch the back of my head sheepishly. “Um, thanks.”

When I brought my arm back down I caught sight of my watch. I winced internally at the late hour, I had no idea I'd been here that long.

“Do you need to go?” Marco looked crestfallen. He was a beautifully painted definition of crestfallen.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “My dog needs to go out and I’ve got an early meeting so...” Why did I sound like I was ending a date?

An awkward silence fell as Marco watched me in anticipation. He probably was ready for me to leave, this place closed in ten minutes. I pulled at my scarf and waved the pumpkin spice latte at him in thanks before turning to leave. I should say something, but nothing felt good enough. The words would fall flat and it was better for both of us if I just stepped back out into the wet cold and pretended like there wasn’t enough tension in the air it might as well be a fog.

“Wait, Jean.” He said something right? It was almost mumbled under his breath like he wasn’t sure if he should’ve spoken in the first place. I stopped with my hand on the door and looked back over my shoulder. I could tell he was shuffling his feet behind the counter.

“Come back soon?”

He sounded so shy and unsure of himself that the normal phrase of parting he gave to customers was worded more like a question. He watched me as I stood there with my hand pressed to the glass.

"Uh.” I turned my head away, looking out into the night. “I come here a lot, so I’ll probably be by tomorrow or something.”

“Okay!” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Right.” I nodded, still not making eye contact. Any more of that freckled face was going to kill me. “It’s a date.”

As soon as the words had left my mouth I knew I’d fucked up. I could hear his small gasp behind me. Shit. I flung the door open and ran out onto the sidewalk, the jingle of the bell signaling my retreat. I wanted to look through the foggy window to see him one last time, but I was too much of a damned coward to do it. Besides, there was always tomorrow.

 

_\---_

 

_Marco_

Today had to be the day. It had been nearly a week since the last time and I was counting on this Tuesday to be _the_ Tuesday. I needed this. I needed to see those gorgeously bright hazel eyes follow me as I worked. His silly tufts of blonde hair, cut to reveal his darker roots underneath haunted my working days. Every day on the clock was torture as I tried not to silently hope he would appear.

He looked like he might be a little older than me, but I was never one to worry about that sort of thing. I just hoped I could impress him enough that my being twenty one wouldn’t be an issue. I even wore my favorite sweater today, just in case. Everyone always said I looked best in blue.

I sighed when there was a lull in the customers mid afternoon. It was irrational to get so worked up about someone who would never notice me. Blondie was way out of my league and the chances were he wasn’t even interested. I’d only just moved back here to my parents place a month ago and he’d been here a handful of times at most. Not enough time for rational people to fall for someone. Unfortunately (or maybe not) I wasn’t a rational person.

I took a deep breath and clapped my hands to my cheeks, trying to clear my head, when my mother came downstairs laden with boxes. “Marco, honey, I could use a hand.”

I jumped, rushing to her side and relieving her. “You should’ve asked me to bring these down, Mama. What if you’d fallen?”

She simply smiled and shook her head. “Don’t underestimate me, boy. I still got a lot of use in these bones.”

“You talk like you’re eighty years old.” I giggled and set the shipments down behind the counter. “I just want you to be careful.”

“I know, dear.” She patted my arm gently then looked around the empty shop. “Think we should close early?”

I was about to agree, considering the last customer had left over an hour ago, but then remembered the whole reason I’d been excited for today. “It should pick up tonight, once people get off work.”

My mother hummed in acknowledgement before moving to clean the lobby area. She did that a lot. She compulsively cleaned the shop and checked on the pastry counter, baked more sweets than we could sell, and even pointlessly rearranged the furniture of our apartment upstairs from time to time. I sighed happily and watched her work, grateful I didn’t have to wipe down tables today.

“Adri!” My father’s voice called from the top of the stairs. “Adriana, what happened to my socks?”

Adriana paused mid wipe on my favorite booth in the back corner, the one with the best view of the street through the large glass window, and looked over her shoulder. She huffed before dropping her cleaning cloth then marched across the shop to stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“In the sock department, where else?” She shouted back up at him. I could hear an exasperated sigh from above that sounded more amused than annoyed.

“Of course!” He replied sarcastically. “Why didn’t I think to look there first?”

Adriana shook her head and giggled. “Check the dryer, Nic!”

There was the sound of hurried movement, a bang followed by a muffled _“ow!”_ , then he was back at the top of the stairs again. “Found them.”

“That’s what I thought,” Adriana mumbled under her breath.

She looked back to me behind the counter with an amused grin. “You’re lucky you got my genes, Marco. All three of you did.”

“I think I look more like dad, though,” I countered.

She snorted, moving back to the table she'd been cleaning. “His one good quality if you ask me.”

I just shook my head, knowing she was only joking. I did look like my father but none of us, neither myself nor the twins, had inherited his scatterbrained personality. Speaking of the twins, just then the front door flew open and my younger sisters came barreling towards me.

“Marco!”

I didn’t have much time to react before two sets of arms and legs had found themselves wrapped around my torso, knocking me back into the wall. Thankfully I was able to catch myself but then my vision went dark as it was filled with thick locks of black hair.

“Mariana! Marietta!” I placed a quick kiss to the tops of their heads and wrapped my arms around them. They were the number one reason I’d come back home and I was more than happy to provide all the hugs they wanted.

“How was school?” I lowered them to the ground and received identical freckled smiles.

“We had auditions today for The Sound of Music!” Mariana piped up, swishing the skirt of her uniform as she hopped from foot to foot.

“She was amazing.” Marietta yanked her hair down from it’s bun and ruffled the wavy strands loose. “If she doesn’t get Liesl, I’ll beat somebody.”

Mariana stopped moving at that, shyly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m only a freshman and didn’t even get a major role in the fall play. I doubt I’ll get anything.”

“Hey now.” I squatted to their height, taking their hands and looking to them in turn. “First, no beating people Marietta.”

She pouted and turned her head away. “I told you to call me Mari.”

“Right, sorry Mari.” I released her hand and turned to Mariana. “Second, I heard how great you were in the play. Besides, you can sing quite well. I’m sure you’ll definitely get a part.”

Mariana smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Thank you.”

Adriana appeared next to us, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, to usher the twins away. “Go get changed girls, and I’ll start dinner.”

“Finally I can put on pants!” Marietta sighed and then ran up the stairs.

I ruffled Mariana’s hair before standing and nudging her shoulder. “Get on now, _passerotta_.”

Mariana beamed at the pet name and then rushed to follow her sister. I watched as she skipped up the winding steps until she disappeared through the door to our home. My sisters were my whole world. After a month of being back home from school, I had trouble remembering why I ever left in the first place. That was only partially true. I just didn’t want to think about it. It was hard enough having long Skype chats with everyone here telling me about all the family events I was missing without the stress I had followed to California. But he wasn’t my stress anymore.

“Marco, customers.” Adriana whispered hurriedly as she rushed back behind the counter.

I pulled myself from the useless thoughts hounding my brain and turned to face the growing crowd. It was turning into evening and that meant a bit of a rush as people began to head home from work. Why people needed coffee after work was beyond me. All I ever did when I wasn’t working was sleep, not pumping my veins full of caffeine.

Hours passed this way, there was always at least one or two people in the shop at any given time and we even had to restock the pastry window. That was a first. Must be the holiday season drawing the crowds. Plus it was so cold out and mom liked to keep the heater on full blast. The windows were a little foggy and when the street lamps flicked on outside, I started to get nervous.

Today had to be the day. Why hadn’t he come yet? He usually was one of my evening rush hour customers. I glanced to the clock, noticing it was about thirty till close and then decided to give up. He wasn’t coming. Maybe another day.

I mindlessly tapped the counter, waiting for the minutes to tick by when the bell chimed. I didn’t bother looking up. I would just wait until they approached the counter. I was far too tired to put in any more effort for the evening. It was terrible, ignoring paying patrons and pining over older men. Really hot older men.

Older men who wore cute scarves. Scarves like the one _this man was wearing_. Oh crap. I sat up just as the man I’d been longing for all day approached the counter. He was looking at me almost like he was searching for something on my face. I swallowed heavily, not sure what to say. So I went with the standard.

“Hello, what can I get for you?” _Oh yes Marco you have some smooth moves. Should be criminal_.

He scowled and glared around the shop like it offended him. “Something that doesn’t scream Christmas in a cup.”

I winced, taking in the icicle lights, hanging ornaments, and surplus of angels that had overrun the place. “I guess it’s a little overwhelming in here, huh?”

He was still scowling as he looked around again so I quickly got to work. I’d only been taught to make the winter holiday beverages since I’d come back just in time for the season, but there was just one beverage I begged my mom to teach me how to make. It had been my saving grace to all my eight a.m. lectures and I didn’t think it was too festive. Maybe he’d like it too.

“I’ve got just the thing!” I smiled at him and pretended to not notice his little jump. It was too cute and I was weak. If I kept staring at him I’d probably outright confess.

I turned my back to gather the necessary ingredients for a nice, hot pumpkin spice latte. I’d set a good rhythm for myself when his voice shook my concentration.

“You gonna tell me what it is, or what?”

He sounded upset and I was afraid I’d messed up, getting lost in my own head when he really didn’t care for my antics. I looked back to him, waiting to be scolded further when his face dropped.

“Uh, never mind,” he sighed. “I like surprises.”

I could tell that was a lie, but for some reason it made me even happier. I continued working on the drink, and nearly gasped when I noticed him leaning over the counter. _Was he just…? No. Get your mind out of the gutter, Marco_. I tried to blow it off by jokingly telling him he shouldn’t be peeking but he seemed to think I meant the drink. I sighed with relief and then mentally scolded myself for believing he was checking me out in any way. It was not going to make getting over this guy any easier. I didn’t even know his name.

When I finally passed him the warm beverage, he looked suspicious and when I joked about the lack of poison in it he was so flabbergasted I couldn’t help but laugh. His face was so cute and innocent that I almost felt guilty for laughing.

“I’m just kidding!” I wiped the wetness from my eyes. “Go ahead and try it. If you don’t like it I’ll make you something else.”

I was not expecting what happened next. The poor guy tried to chug it with some sense of new found courage and ended up losing the liquid all over his face. I gasped and apologized before gathering napkins and helping him clean it before it dribbled onto his cute scarf. He pulled away after a moment and then I realized what I had done. I backed off, fearing I’d crossed some unspoken boundary. Guys don’t usually do that for each other, do they? Shit I was so screwed.

Even after apologizing and passing him the remaining napkins I still felt like I’d been rejected. He hadn’t even done anything wrong, I was the one acting weird. I looked down, fearing he was gonna run off and never come back. I wouldn’t blame him though after that little stunt.

“Thanks, Marco,” he mumbled. I looked up and saw the traces of a smile on his lips.

I stared at him curiously. “You know my name?”

He snorted and I nearly sighed as the tension ebbed away. “It’s on your name tag, dude.”

Oh. Of course. How stupid of me. “O-oh. Right, yeah I guess it is.”

Jean returned my quizzical stare. “Should I not use your name?”

I could feel my heart flutter wildly at that. Before I could stop myself from looking like an idiot, the words came flying out of my mouth. “Please use it!”

Oh I was so screwed.

I leaned forward, my stomach in knots. I just wanted to be closer to him and no matter what rational thought in my head was telling me to chill out, my body just wouldn’t listen. “What’s yours?”

He seemed confused for a moment before responding. “Jean.”

My heart skipped. It actually skipped and my voice was all quivery when I repeated his name. “Jean.”

I tried to change the subject but he was all zoned out and I ended up having to repeat my question twice. I was only joking about him losing his drink everywhere, trying to lighten the mood and all, but he took me seriously. He actually enjoyed my latte. That was a huge ego boost. He also seemed to joke back with me when I asked him to name a Christmas carol. I was only slightly offended he didn’t like Carol of the Bells.

“Whatever,” Jean grumbled after I joked about him being Scrooge for the second time that night. “How much do I owe you?”

I shook my head. “My treat since you burned your tongue.”

“I can’t just--”

“You can,” I cut him off with a stern look. Then I had a sneaky idea of how to get a video of him to keep for later. Because I’m a terrible person who thinks the sun exists in this person’s eyes. “And you can repay me by singing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and letting me record it.”

I whipped out my phone, flipping the camera on and focusing on his flustered expression. He gaped for a moment and I pressed record just to get that cute expression in. I wasn’t going to tell him that of course.

“Hell no!” He didn’t sound angry.

I reassured him no one else would see it and this was something I did to all my friends. That was a lie. My only friend here was Armin and he gave me the evil eye when I tried to film him. I needed a subject for my camera to focus on and Armin wasn’t putting out. Okay that sounded wrong. But what else was a film student supposed to do?

I figured he wouldn’t know the words or at least he would say he didn’t, and I was right. So I promised to start him off and we ended up in this weird back and forth duet with him mostly grumbling and me trying not to blush when he sang. Eventually I caved and let the phone rest because his voice was surprising. I hadn’t expected him to be able to sing like that. He was actually really good and that was very bad. Oh gosh, I was falling harder. Not part of the plan.

His voice was low and gruff but had this lyrical quality to it when he sang his part that was endearing. Maybe to someone else it would’ve just been average but I guess that comes with the territory of infatuation. Everything they do is special. His blush as he tried to look away from the camera, the twitch of his lip when he grumbled “whatever”, and the way his hands fidgeted self-consciously at his scarf were all special. I wondered if he even knew he was doing it.

“What?” He spoke up. “Not good enough for you? Do I need to do a full dance number to pay off my debt?”

I snapped out of my thoughts, realizing I had been staring for a while. “N-no! Sorry, you just have a really nice voice.”

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch. “Um, thanks.”

Jean glanced down at his watch and a small sigh escaped his lips. I looked to the clock on the wall, noting we were getting close to closing.

“Do you need to go?” I asked with the hope he would say no.

“Yeah,” he sighed tiredly. “My dog needs to go out and I’ve got an early meeting so…” He trailed off, looking wistfully towards the door.

I bit my lip around the words I wanted to say. Deciding now was not a good time to ask for his number or anything. I watched as he turned to leave and my mind raced. I should say something, anything really. But what I really wanted was to tell him to come back and not leave at all. He had fully captured my attention and made me happy for the first time in months. I was afraid I would never move on from the past but this man, Jean, walked right in through the door of my family’s coffee shop looking as despondent as ever and had completely knocked me over. His grumbles were cute, his permanent pout was cute, even his gruff attitude was cute and I had no idea why.

“Wait, Jean.” The words slipped out as he reached the door. I hadn’t meant to say that but I did and it ended up being garbled by me tripping over my own tongue.

He froze and looked back over to me, eyes bright and calm. I shuffled nervously, not sure what else to say or why I had called out to him in the first place. So I just spat out the first thing on my mind.

“Come back soon?” That was what I normally said to customers as they left. But I was so nervous it sounded like I was unsure of myself or unsure if Jean really would ever come back. Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he stood at the door.

“Uh,” he responded. “I come here a lot, so I’ll probably be by tomorrow or something.”

“Okay!” I sounded way too excited. But i couldn’t help myself, he might come back tomorrow. That was only 24 hours. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Right.” He nodded with his back to me. I wish I could see his face one last time this evening. “It’s a date.”

I gasped, surprised he’d called it a date. He must’ve realized it too cause he was gone in a heartbeat, racing down the snowy sidewalk to his car. I watched his figure through the foggy glass before rushing to the door. I quickly locked it and watched as he clambered inside his car and drove away.

I groaned and flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed”. I shut my eyes and leaned back against the cold glass, banging my head against it lightly. I sure as hell hoped I hadn’t messed anything up tonight. I went over the details of our encounter again in my head trying to figure out if I'd done something stupid, so I didn’t even hear my mother until it was too late.

“Oh my, he was a handsome young man.”

My eyes flew open to see her leaning against the railing of the spiral staircase that led upstairs. She had a knowing look on her face. I sighed heavily and pushed off from the door, heading back to close the register.

“Don’t you start, Mom.” I brushed past her as she followed me behind the counter.

“What?” She chuckled. “I haven’t said anything at all.”

“No but you were thinking it,” I scolded her as I pulled out the cash from the day's sales.

“Oh come now, Marco.” She hovered over me, twirling a loose strand of curly dark hair around her finger. “So did you get his number?”

“Maaa,” I whined then dropped my head to the counter. She merely laughed and patted my arm.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Her tone was more serious now. I sat up and smiled in order to reassure her, knowing her worried expression was justified.

“I know it hasn’t been that long since Thomas,” she continued. I winced at the name. “But moving on is important. I don’t like seeing you upset, love.”

Even though she was trying to comfort me, it still stung to think about my last relationship. I had followed him across the country to California and paid the price. Now here I was back on the east coast in my home with people who actually loved me and I was still hurting. I hadn’t meant for her to see but I guess I couldn’t hide anything from my mother.

“Thanks, Mama.” I drew her in for a quick hug before turning back to the register. She watched me for a moment before smiling and moving to clear out the pastries we hadn’t sold. We worked in silence next to each other until everything was done.

Before I ascended the stairs for the evening and switched off the lights to the holiday palooza of a shop, I smiled. Jean would be back. He would be back soon.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is the best place to contact me!


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